


Give it Away now

by sksdwrld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has had a lifetime of bad first time experiences. Assuming his first time with a male partner is going to suck like anything else, he agrees to let Malfoy take him home. What he doesn’t realize is that he's going to suck, but in a way he never anticipated</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give it Away now

Draco straightened his tie and smoothed his dress robes down for the hundredth time since arriving at the bottom of the steps to the arboretum. He was now at the top step of the arboretum and was feeling rather unlike himself. Of course, it had been some time since he’d been back to England since graduating Hogwarts, other than to see his parents. And even then, he’d had the liberty of a direct Floo.

He was here to attend an International Magical Government Ball, for the purposes of making business connections. What pig-headed dolt had dreamed up the concept was beyond him. This was the first year such an event had ever taken place in all the years of magical wizarding governments, as far as Draco could tell from his research. The theme this year was “laying roots”, which led to the choice of the arboretum as the venue.

Draco had been working as a potions developer of sorts for Les Gardiens of Magik, which was the French equivalent of The Ministry of Magic, for the last four years, after having spent a year living in France trying to figure out what to do with his adult wizarding life. Draco had spent much of his time trying to re-invent himself, or rather, invent himself in the first place. It seemed that the Malfoy name didn’t have nearly as much clout in France as it held in England, and he’d rather much relied on its influences in the past.

Out from under the oppressive thumb and watchful eyes of his father, the young Malfoy found life to hold many more pleasantries. He'd also learnt that the French weren’t nearly as impressed with Harry Potter as all of Great Britain seemed to be, and that settled with him just fine. Although, after weeks and weeks of scanning the newspapers and coming up not-quite-satisfied without knowing why, it dawned on him that he’d been looking for Potter’s picture, or a snippet of news about him. His Potter-obsession had traveled with him, but with nothing to fuel his anger, it had eventually morphed into something more like an attraction. 

Eventually, he’d signed up to have the Daily Prophet delivered as well. Of course, he'd convinced himself that he was just keeping up on the news from back home. And if said news just so happened to bring word (and pictures!) of his childhood nemesis, well, there wasn’t much he could do about that, was there? And Harry Potter was looking quite fit these days. Five years and playing a key role in the Aurors had done that for him. His style was only somewhat better, although his rakish grin made up quite a bit for any ungainly attributes.

Draco hoped with a deep desperation that Potter would be here tonight, but the possibility that he might was making him feel as if he had a stomach full of hippogriffs. “Get a grip on yourself, Malfoy,” he mumbled under his breath.

 

Harry straightened his tie and smoothed his dress robes down for the first time that evening. Normally, he was not overly concerned with wrinkles, but Kingsley had made it quite clear that there were not to be any shenanigans tonight. This was an important night for Britain, and the Ministry itself, as the hosts of the first International Magical Government Ball.

He was the one who had made a casual remark that it would be nice to see how other Ministries might be handling their issues, if they were even having the same issues at all. Maybe the way they looked at the wizarding world was different. But he had wanted something informal, something akin to a Muggle company picnic. Not this blown up, overly formal creature that some pea-brained Wizard Relations worker had dreamt up.

Perhaps he would be able to escape to a far corner and have a drink in solace… Harry snorted. Rita Skeeter was sure to have finagled her way inside and she’d be snapping pictures and pressing for interviews all night. If he didn’t escape to the loo to hang himself halfway through the evening, he’d be able to consider it a decent affair. Merlin help him if she started in on why the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelor hadn’t brought a date…

After graduation, some things hadn’t much changed for him. Ron and Hermione were ever-present as his sidekicks, and Sunday dinners at the Weasleys' had continued despite the fact that he’d broken things off with Ginny shortly after her graduation from Hogwarts.

But, well, there was that ever interesting development in his life where he’d realized that he fancied blokes, and that had its challenges too. And even after he’d gone through the evolution from realization to denial to acceptance, he still hadn’t found anyone he was interested in for more than a passing glance, and certainly not anyone he was interested in being intimate with. At twenty three, his on-going love affair with his right hand was growing quite stale.

“Hey, Harry!” Walt Wagner was the first person to hand him a drink, and the night was off…

 

 

Draco had been trying to hunt Potter down all night, but every time he made any sort of progress in nearing him, one of his co-workers or former Slytherin classmates interjected, and he spent the time politely retelling his stories and trying to beg off a drink out on the verandah. He hadn’t even managed to make eye contact with Potter, whom he was sure had no idea that Draco was even there in the first place.

This time, he’d made it within six feet of Potter, double fisting Firewhiskeys on the rocks, before being interrupted by Pierre Pirot, his supervisor, and the French Prime Minister, who wanted to introduce him to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Conversation became narrowly focused on the potion Draco had been working on for nearly a year now: Mensrea Purus. It was something akin to liquid guilt, which could be misted over an area and once inhaled, would make a criminal suffer the overwhelming urge to turn oneself in to the nearest authority or Auror. Somehow, it morphed into the logistics of administering the potion without dosing an entire population of wizards and/or Muggles at the same time, followed by the morality and legality of utilizing such a potion. After all, even Veritaserum was not administered freely.

Finally, Draco managed to throw back both of the drinks; one of which had originally been intended to buy Potter’s favor. Now, he used the empty glasses as an excuse to back out of the conversation, which had become far too heavy for his tastes. He held the glasses up and gave them a shake, then canted his head toward the bar. 

“I’m afraid I’ve gone and emptied the tumblers… and no good reason not to take advantage of an open bar…” He plastered an apologetic smile on his face. “Minister Shacklebolt, I daresay the French may drink you out of house and home.”

Kingsley swept his arm graciously toward the bar. “By all means, Mr. Malfoy. I do hope that you are enjoying yourself.” Draco thought that Kingsley looked as if he were enjoying the open bar quite a bit himself, judging from the slight sway of his body to and fro, and the way his voice had increasingly slurred throughout their conversation. “However, before you go, might I take the liberty of introducing you to one of our promising Aurors? I have a feeling he’d be quite interested in this Meaculpa Aqueus, of yours.”

Draco ground his teeth together but forced a smile after listening to the Minister butcher the name of his potion-in-progress. Now he was convinced the man was more than a little tipsy. “Of course, Minister. I’d be happy to.”

 

 

“Harry! Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Harry half-turned from the conversation he’d been having with Ron, and put a smile on his face, although inside he was groaning. He’d already met one too many of the arrogant French and Italian wizards, and wasn’t sure his jaw was going to withstand grinning through another painful conversation. 

Still, he waved Ron away and gave his full attention to the Minister. “Of course, Kingsley. I’d be happy to!”

“This is a very talented young potions master from the French Ministry who has been working on something quite controversial, and I’d like your opinion…” Kingsley rapidly brought him up to speed as they crossed towards the bar where a fit-looking blond was hurriedly ordering a drink. Not a bad idea, in Harry’s mind.

“Ah, here he is!” Kingsley announced. “Dragan Malfoy, I’d like to present the man I was speaking about, Auror Potter!”

 

Malfoy nearly dropped the glass of Firewhiskey he’d just accepted, and Harry’s face had contorted into a number of expressions before settling on something he hoped was quite neutral. But when the blond turned towards him, Harry’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker over him in assessment. The years had been kind to Draco Malfoy, who had gone from a skinny boy with an air of arrogance to a tall and lean young man with graceful ease. He watched as all the blood drained out of Malfoy’s face, only to be replaced an instant later as he flushed.

“Malfoy!” Harry managed, though it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say.

“Draco, please.” The blond recovered with an easy smile and offered his hand. “You must be Harry.” He winked as the Minister clapped each of them on the shoulders before turning toward the bar himself. 

Harry could only surmise that it was years of practice in a multitude of social situations that had Draco recovering his composure so quickly. He straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin, and flicked his hair from his eyes in one smooth motion.

“Er, yeah.” Harry found himself shaking Draco’s hand as if they were new acquaintances rather than old enemies. And when slender fingers held onto his for just a moment longer than was necessary, he flushed. “I, er…”

“You look like you could use a stiff drink, Potter.” Draco grinned and pushed his glass into Harry’s hand, then lifted a flute of champagne off the tray of a traveling waiter. “Shall we remove ourselves to the verandah?” 

 

 

Though Harry was quite dubious about Draco’s intentions, he found they had a decent conversation without arguing for the first time in their lives. Even when he had voiced concern and verbally disagreed with Draco regarding his Mensrea Purus potion, Draco had only shrugged with an odd sort of smile and changed the topic. So they had been discussing the finer points of Quidditch for the last forty minutes or so when Draco set his empty champagne flute aside. He looked down and brushed his robe as if it had a hair or a crumb on it and Harry thought he was going to excuse himself.

Pity. Harry thought. He had not had a bad time with Draco, who, when he wasn’t sneering and throwing hexes, was rather attractive.

“Well, let’s quit faffing about then, and I’ll get to the point.” He raised his chin and looked into Harry’s eyes in a way that was slightly unsettling at first.

“Er, the point?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, the point.” Draco lowered his voice as he moved closer to Potter. 

In turn, Harry took a step backwards, but the railing caught him in the small of the back, preventing him from going anywhere else. He began slowly slipping his hand inside his robes, reaching for his wand, certain that if Draco was going to try anything, it would be now.

Draco leaned closer, the hard line of his body millimeters away from Harry’s. “Hex me if you will,” he murmured into the Auror’s ear, giving the hand reaching for his wand a brief squeeze. “But I feel compelled to admit that I’m incredibly attracted to you.” 

The way those soft lips brushed his earlobes sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. And it took him a moment to process the words. “You-you are?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Draco slid one daring hand up Harry’s arm, curling his fingers around the bicep. “And might I be so bold as to say…” He pulled back and leveled his eyes with Harry’s. “That I want you. Badly.”

Harry’s brows shot into the center of his forehead and his face had an unreadable expression on it for a moment. And then he began to chuckle. He pushed at Draco slightly. “Come off it, yeah? You’re taking the piss…” He angled his head to look past Draco in all directions. “Who put you up to this?” There were small clusters of people farther away, but none of them looked like they were about to put a flashbulb off in his face. And it dawned on him that over the course of the night, they had moved into the darker recesses of the verandah, nearly on the other side of the building from the noisy party-goers.

Draco was persistent and inched his way closer to Harry again, tucking his body close to the man’s side. He fingered the Auror’s dress robes in a way that seemed almost demure. “Are you seeing anyone, Harry?”

The question took him off guard. “Hmm? What? No. I—”

“Then I don’t have to feel guilty about doing this…” Draco reached up hesitantly, almost as if he was counting on Harry’s Auror training to make him wary of close encounters, like he was expecting to be punched in the face.

Harry, however, had sucked in a breath and was holding it; his deeply green eyes trained on Draco as his face moved ever closer to his own. Finally, Draco’s slender fingers wove into his hair and pulled his head down the rest of the way. Their lips met softly, and Harry parted his to allow a gently thrusting tongue admittance. Draco was as skilled at kissing as he was at most any other things, and the fact that the very lips Harry had been staring at for the better part of two hours were now pressing against his mouth made his heart race. His arm curled around Draco’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were firmly pressed against one another’s.

It was Draco who broke the kiss, pulling away to press his cheek against Harry’s so that he might whisper in his ear: “Your place, or mine?”

 

 

A thousand thoughts raced through Harry’s mind at once. How many relationships had he bollixed up since Ginny? How many good blokes had he put on hold because he wasn’t ready for sexual intimacy? How could Draco Malfoy, the boy from school who’d made his life so miserable up until this point, now make him feel so good? How could he say yes to Draco when he’d said no to so many others? How could he say no to Draco when it was painfully obvious that they both wanted this? But what if…what if it was terrible?

If there was one thing that Harry had learned, it was that first times suck. The first time he made a friend, it was at the expense of another. He flashed back to that moment on the Hogwarts Express, and wondered briefly if there was a better way that he could have handled that situation; a way that meant he would have kept Ron as his best mate, and not made Malfoy his enemy.

The first time he flew a broom, he nearly got expelled. That, too, had been Malfoy’s fault, but the result being that he had been spotted and made the youngest member of any Quidditch team in over a century. He might not have been noticed, otherwise.

The first time he kissed a girl, she was too busy crying to notice… Harry felt compelled to rush past that painful memory. He still remembered Cho fondly, but the awkwardness of the situation made a flush rise on his face every time he thought of it.   
The first time he made love to a girl, he realized that maybe girls weren't quite his thing after all… and poor Ginny, he’d nearly crushed her heart into a thousand pieces, and lost several good friends in the process.

The first time he kissed a bloke, the bloke reminded him of his best friend (which is only to be expected if you go kissing your best friend's brother). It had been Christmas Eve at The Burrow, and only a few months after he’d ended things with Ginny. He’d only just felt comfortable enough to start going round again, when he found himself up late, drinking with Bill and Charlie. Bill excused himself for the night, and Harry had just gotten up to use the toilet, when Charlie confided in Harry that he’d always known things would never work out with his younger sister. The kiss that followed had been interesting, but awkward, and Harry found he had never been able to meet Charlie’s eyes since then.

 

“Harry?” Draco pulled back from him and was holding his shoulders at arms length now. 

Harry startled out of his thought process and realized he’d left Draco hanging with respect to his proposition. He’d done that to many a bloke, who’d taken his silence for a no, and made a hasty retreat.

Draco was blinking and probably steeling himself for rejection. “If you don’t want to…” He left the sentence trailing. 

“Sorry, I—” He began to apologize for his lapse in conversation and watched as Draco’s face fell. “No!” He corrected himself so forcefully that the blond man startled a bit. “I mean, I… I want to. I just…” He began to flush and ruffled the hair on the back of his head nervously. “Yeah.” First time’s going to be crap anyway. Harry rationalized to himself. Might as well be with someone like him, who isn’t interested in anything but a one-off in the first place.“Yeah, alright.” He offered a sheepish grin. “Your place, then?”

Draco’s face reassembled into a smile. “Any other pressing engagements for the evening?”

“Er, no.” Harry found himself easily distracted by Draco’s touch, which had once more slid up his shoulder and around the back of his neck, curling into the hair and tugging ever so slightly.

Draco’s smile widened into a grin moments before he pulled Harry more firmly against him. He angled his head and captured another kiss from the Auror, then Disapparated them from the party to an expensive looking hotel room. They arrived, stumbling together to find their balance. Harry had only a moment to take in his surroundings before Draco was pulling his dress robes over his head, and then shrugging out of his own. Draco only managed to down three of his shirt buttons before reaching for Harry again. Draco caught him around the waist and yanked Harry’s dress shirt from his trousers while at the same time backing him toward the bed.

Things were progressing far too quickly for Harry, but he barely had the breath to protest. He felt the edge of the bed catch him behind the knees, and then he was tumbling backwards onto the soft mattress and pulling Draco with him. Once they were downed together, Draco’s insistent and hurried kisses became more languid and relaxed. His tongue thoroughly searched the velvety cavern of Harry’s mouth, rippled over his teeth, and teased the sensitive inner portions of Harry’s lips. Their hips rose and fell, rubbing eager erections together through layers of fabric.

Just when Harry was certain he couldn’t stand another moment of the torture, Draco sat up, grinding his arse down against the hard ridge in his pants. Harry groaned and his eyes fluttered almost shut.

“Do you top or bottom?” Draco questioned, fingers fumbling with the remaining fastenings on his own shirt.

“I…er…” Harry flushed. To be honest, he hadn’t done either, and wasn’t sure which he’d like better. “Both?”

A toothy grin flashed over Draco’s face. “Me too. Oh, sod the buttons!” He cursed to himself and yanked the lapels of his shirt open, sending small, round, black buttons scattering. “Got a preference?” he asked, shrugging out of his shirt and throwing it on the floor. Draco reached for Harry’s hands and pulled them to his bared torso, then leaned back over him. He let his tongue flicker over Harry’s jaw line as he went to work on disassembling the buttons on his shirt.

“Hmmm…” Harry hummed in satisfaction. “No… I… oh, sod the buttons!” he breathed.

“Really?” Draco purred in his ear, wrapping his hands tightly around Harry’s lapels and jerking so that only one button popped off. Then he repositioned his hands lower, and pulled again. Another button. He caught the ridge of Harry’s right ear between his teeth and gave a gentle shake of his head.

Harry moaned and flexed his hips. Then his roaming hands found twin rings piercing Draco’s nipples. He hooked the tips of his forefingers into them and tugged; it only seemed natural.

“Oh fffffffffffuck!” Draco crooned and stiffened.

For a moment, Harry thought he’d done something wrong.

“More!” Draco demanded, twisting his torso this way and that to increase the tension on his sensitive nipples.

Harry was happy to oblige and pulled and turned the delicate silver rings as much as he dared until Draco flustered his hands away with a panting reprimand of “Enough! I’m going to come if you keep that up!”

After another long snog, Draco began to work his lips down Harry’s bared neck. He paused to suck on a collarbone and lick delicately at the hollow of his neck. Harry moaned again, and prayed that Draco wouldn’t stop.

“I want to taste you… every inch of you!” Draco’s hair tickled Harry’s chest as he delved lower still, pausing only briefly to gnaw pink nipples to a more dusky shade before swirling his tongue over the well toned muscles of Harry’s abdomen and lingering along the ridges between them. He deftly undid Harry’s belt and pulled the man’s trousers down as he went, ignoring the cock throbbing with need until he had licked a line down one leg and back up the other. “Shall I…?” Draco left the question to trail and hovered over Harry’s groin, mouth open, his hot, moist breath teasing Harry mercilessly.  
“  
Merlin, yes! Don’t stop!” Harry pleaded. He was now a slave to sensation. A throaty groan escaped him as Draco slowly licked the head of his prick as if it were a lolly to be savored. Then, he wrapped one hand tightly around the base of Harry’s cock and took the pulsing length into his mouth.

Harry’s fingers twisted in the coverlet and he tried to still the thrusting motion of his hips. It was only a few minutes later that he was pushing feebly at Draco’s shoulders. “Oh, Merlin…stop! Stop! I’m gonna…oh!”

At his protests, Draco had only increased the speed and tempo of his ministrations, and lowered one hand down to fondle and caress Harry’s bollocks; already drawn up tightly as they prepared to empty their contents.

Harry came with a groan and a low cry, not so much shuddering as convulsing. Draco let the salty fluid fill his mouth before he swallowed, and gave one last swirling lick to Harry’s cock as he pulled off

“Hmm?” Harry lifted his head at the sound of Draco’s belt buckle clanging, then started to sit up. “Oh, here… let me do you…”

A flat palm to the chest forced him back down and Draco wriggled out of his trousers and pants. “When I said I wanted to taste you, I meant it.” He settled himself back down between Harry’s bent, muscular legs.

“But, you already…” Harry said weakly.

“I wasn’t finished…” Draco grinned and lowered his head, sucking one tender testicle into his mouth and then the other, licking them eagerly until he wrested another sound of pleasure from Harry.

He mumbled something that Harry was unable to discern, and slipped even lower, drawing Harry’s thighs over his shoulders. Then, he used his thumbs to divide the man’s arse cheeks. 

Harry stiffened and felt the muscles of his buttocks involuntarily clench. “What’re you…” he breathed, propping himself up on his elbows so that he might see what was going on. On second thought, maybe he still wasn’t ready for this kind of sexual intimacy.

 

 

Draco laved a warm, wet streak along the cleft of Potter’s arse, and he felt the man shudder. He gave another lick, concentrating on the salty and acrid pucker of flesh at the man’s entrance, then exhaled. “Did you want me to stop?” Potter’s body was so tense, he couldn’t be sure that he was still enjoying himself.

“I…” Potter trailed and took a breath as Draco gave another tentative lick. “I’m not sure…”

Draco took the liberty of swirling his tongue several times, feeling Potter’s posture loosen with each lick until he was groaning and arching toward him. Finally, he pointed his tongue and pressed firmly beyond the tight ring that clenched at him. Potter gasped and went rigid again.

“Potter!” Draco huffed, pulling back. “If you want me to stop, just say so. You aren’t going to hurt my feelings any.” This last bit was a small lie. His pride might be wounded a bit if Potter turned him away.

Lucky for him, Potter had already caved. “No, don’t stop!” He groaned and lifted his hips, pressing his legs apart more widely. “Malfoy, please… you’re bloody brilliant!”

Draco took the compliment in stride and lowered his head back into place, tongue darting out once more. He continued licking and sucking the sensitive flesh until Potter was squirming, and his own cock was demanding attention. He sat back on his heels and wiped the drool from his chin with a smile, his eyelids dropping with lust. “Salazar, I need you!” He admitted, shifting himself between Potter’s legs.

Potter seemed to suddenly panic and he sat up again. “Wait. What… what’re you going to do now?”

Draco snorted. “I’m going to fuck you, of course. Salazar, I’m dying over here, Potter!”

Potter gulped and settled back against the pillows uneasily. “Alright,” he agreed, “but… but, go easy, okay?”

“Go easy?” Malfoy parroted, the old familiar snark rising in his voice again. “Fucking hell, Potter. Harry. ” He wanted to think of him as more than just Potter, especially now. “What are you, some kind of virgin?”

When Harry fell silent instead of returning the banter, Draco was certain he’d hit the nail on the head. And the idea made him rather uncomfortable.

“Jesus, you are, aren’t you?” A bit of his eagerness died away and he sat back on his heels again. In the meanwhile, Harry was flushing several shades of red. Actually, it was rather becoming. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Er, I didn’t want to turn you off,” Harry admitted slowly.

“Well, hell.” Draco was a bit irritated. “I could have really hurt you, you know?”

“But you didn’t,” Harry argued. “You’re fucking brilliant and… and I want you to do it.” He bit his lip and watched Draco staring at him. “I… I want you,” he quietly admitted, seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

This last statement made Draco’s cock twitch. That line had played out in many a fantasy, but he’d never imagined hearing it straight from Harry’s mouth, for real. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no taking this back, Harry. Your first is always your first, and you never forget it; good, bad, or otherwise.”

“Well, Draco.” Harry said his name as pointedly as Draco had said his. “Guess you had better make it good then, yeah?” His smile faltered, then regained itself.

“You bloody stubborn Gryffindor,” Draco grumbled teasingly, and Accio’d a pot of lube from his nearby suitcase. He was glad Harry hadn’t turned him down, although now he had the added pressure of breaking in a virgin, showing him a good time, and managing not to hurt him all at once…still, he was confident he could rise to the challenge. 

Harry’s hole was still somewhat slick with spit. Nevertheless, Draco smeared a glob of greasy lube into the crack of his arse, and started rubbing small circles with his finger, creating a gentle pressure. 

 

Harry bit his lip when Draco eased a lone finger inside of him. It was different than the tongue, and though no wider, created a burning sensation, not unpleasant, but different. Draco worked him slowly and with deliberation, and after a minute, Harry was squirming again, though not from pleasure. The whole process now seemed rather planned, more like a task or procedure than sex. He sighed, and Draco looked up at him. 

“Alright, Harry?”

“Kiss me, won’t you?” Harry sighed, reaching for him.

Draco settled down beside him and began a series of tentative, soft kisses that left Harry wanting more. He sought them aggressively, attacking Draco’s mouth with his own, not noticing that the uncomfortable sensation had passed until a second finger pressed into him. Harry sucked in a breath and started to pull away, but Draco’s free hand caught him around the neck and reigned him back in.

The fingers inside of him probed with purpose, and Harry frowned slightly. For everything he’d ever read or dreamed of, this was rather unsatisfactory… well… first time was bound to suck, wasn’t it? And everything had gone rather swimmingly until now… Harry sighed softly and tipped his hips. Maybe it would be different once there was something other than fingers inside of him… maybe— Harry’s thoughts came to a sudden screeching halt as a jolt of electricity originated from somewhere deep inside of him and went zinging straight to his cock. He gasped, and Draco flexed his fingers, and the sensation came again.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry groaned into Draco’s mouth.

“There?” Draco whispered and curled his fingers again.  
Harry’s hips came off the mattress. “Ahhhh, yeah. More of that, please!”

Draco slid his fingers out almost completely, then plunged in again and scissored them, drawing another groan. He had just added a third finger when Harry’s hand shot down between them, gripping Draco’s wrist in a bruising grip.

“Fuck. Fuck!” he swore.

“What is it?” Draco looked concerned.

“I can’t take any more teasing. Will you just get to it, already?”

“I’m trying not to hurt you.” Draco said through gritted teeth. “Take it easy, you said, remember?”

“I remember,” Harry said. “But now I’m telling you I’m ready. I want you. I need you… Draco, please.”

 

Draco’s cock stretched him wider and filled him more than Harry could ever have possibly imagined. He hissed and clutched his arms so tightly around Draco’s back that he was somewhat embarrassed when he realized what he was doing.

“Fuck. You’re tight. So, so, so, so tight,” came Draco’s astute observation. His eyes were squeezed shut and he forced himself to shift slightly as though he was trying not to pull back and slam into the sucking heat that surrounded him. “Alright?” he questioned again.

Harry nodded and loosed his grip so that he could run his hands up the curve of Draco’s back. He fingered the prominent bones in his spine and tried to concentrate on something else. When Draco lowered his mouth to the crook of Harry shoulder and sucked, the two of them found a common distraction.

 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Harry started panting as every other stroke sent electrifying zings of sensation through him. “Ow, fuck!” A particularly enthusiastic stroke on Draco’s behalf caused another burning sensation. “No, no, don’t stop!” Harry bucked his hips to keep up the rhythm as Draco slowed.

“Harry, I’m going to…” Draco warned, slowing even more.

“Going to what?” Harry panted, raking his fingernails down Draco’s back for the fifth time.

Draco groaned and pumped harder. “Come, you pillock!”

“Do it!” Harry encouraged.

Draco caved and began a series of short, stabbing strokes that hardly did anything for Harry, but must have really put him over the top. As Draco climaxed, he let loose a string of unintelligible syllables, then shoved himself into Harry one last time. He rested his elbows on Harry’s knees for a minute, catching his breath.

“Here, let me…” He offered with an awkward smile, and reached a hand toward Harry’s untended erection. A few obviously practiced tugs and a twist of his wrist later, and Harry was shooting his spunk between them. 

Draco collapsed beside him with a smile and tossed his arm over Harry amicably. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” Harry’s eyes were closed as he shook his head. “Wasn’t too terrible, was I?”

“Well, not too terrible,” Draco admitted with a grin.

“Sod,” Harry accused.

“Pillock,” Draco responded.

 

In the morning, Harry awoke and found himself still curled in Draco’s arms. As he shifted, Draco’s eyes came slowly open and Harry smiled. “You’re still here.”

“It’s my room, you twat.” Draco’s snappy retort made Harry feel suddenly uneasy.

He struggled into a sitting position with a frown. “I should go, then.”

Draco slung an arm back over Harry's chest and pulled him back down, snuggling into his shoulder. “No,” he protested sleepily. “Stay. I’ll order room service. We’ll have pancakes and Belgian waffles.”

“Pancakes and waffles?” Harry said incredulously with a chuckle. “Why both?”

“For the whipped cream and syrup, of course. You dolt!” Draco licked a long stripe down Harry’s neck, indicating what he intended to use it for.

Harry sighed and settled his weight against Draco. “Did I ever tell you that you were brilliant?”

“Keep saying it. A boy likes to be flattered, you know.”

 

And that, my friends, was the beginning of a very long, not-always-happy, but entirely satisfying relationship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.


End file.
